


Interview with the Cannibal

by whydoihavethiskink



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Drinking, Cannibalism, Dehumanization, Dolcett - Freeform, Gore, Guro, Hard vore, Lactation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 13:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18389672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whydoihavethiskink/pseuds/whydoihavethiskink
Summary: A cannibal's observations on the culinary uses of the human animal.





	Interview with the Cannibal

**Author's Note:**

> *Blasts _[Mein Teil](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBvwcH4XX6U)_ *

I am the knife.

This is not strictly true. I am made of flesh, just like all the others, but I hold the wood and steel; I control it. Therefore, in every way that really matters, I am the knife. Everyone else is plain flesh, and inferior.

All I want is to fully become the knife someday, to metamorphose into steel and wood myself, to leave this weak flesh behind. It should be possible; don’t we all have iron in our blood? Diluted, of course, just atoms or molecules in so much liquid, adulterated with oxygen—that is why blood is red—but what is diluted may be concentrated. If I drink enough blood, I may transform.

That is what I pray. That is what I try to make so. God helps those who help themselves.

I am following my plan. First, I ate many lesser animals. They are stupid, but even they have just a bit of the element of the knife. I befriended the old man who butchered them. He was my first human kill. His blood was so red, so bursting with iron, from a lifetime of eating and concentrating those lesser animals. But he lacked vision, even before I cut his eyes out and ate them. He did not dare to extrapolate the order of predation to its self-evident conclusion: True enlightenment is in becoming the apex predator, and not simply in species. A species is not an individual. _The_ apex predator is that who eats what eats everything else.

And so I gorged on that gouty old butcher, that distillate of thousands of lesser animals. I drank his blood and ate his heart. It’s difficult to eat hearts, you know, with weak flesh muscles and blunt omnivore teeth. As one does it repeatedly, one grows stronger. Of course my first was difficult, straining my jaws like a hymen, smearing my face with blood. Each time after, my jaws stretched and strengthened. Now I can swallow a child’s heart whole.

But what was I saying? Yes, I ate the butcher. I made sure to only carve into him from the back, so that his front could be buried, and no one was the wiser. I inherited his shop. Always an excuse to be covered in blood, or have parts of carcasses lying around. Skin them, and they pass for pig’s flesh. All the blood I can drink, too, and if I see a customer who’s particularly ruddy and won’t be missed—why, I tell them I have something special in the back, and they always come right in! They never see the knife—it helps to have the shape of a man.

I don’t start by stabbing, of course. That wastes so much blood! Just like with a lesser animal, I stun them first. I have mallets with springs on the doorframe just for it. Down they go—they always look so surprised! It’s as if no one has ever told them before that humans are just more flesh, more animals. Then, before they regain consciousness, I tie them up and hang them from meat hooks. This is where it gets fun.

If they’re men, I hang them by their ankles and wrists both, bending them backwards. I stimulate the penis until it is engorged, and then I tie it off with kitchen twine. It’s like a ready-made blood sausage! A bit tough in the casing, but delicious enough, so long as you don’t overcook it. I cut it off between the body and the twine, having placed a clean bucket under the wound. The cock-sausage stays full of blood, held by the twine, and the rest of the blood in the male’s body drains into the bucket. Sometimes I’ll sever the inguinal artery to hurry it up. It’s a clean death, very professional.

If they’re female, I’ll hang them by the ankles. I butcher females just like chickens—cutting the jugular and carotid without severing the windpipe. If I sever the windpipe, they’ll choke to death on their own blood before they bleed out—a delectable thing to watch, to be sure, but inefficient. But before I kill them, I check their breasts. If they’re lactating, I extract the milk—human breast milk makes the most perfect Bolognese. It’s so much sweeter than cows’ milk, so it gives a subtle caramel flavor to the finished sauce. Every time I serve it at a dinner party, I get so many compliments! Truth be told, I’ve thought about keeping a woman alive and using hormones to extend lactation, so I could have milk all the time, but it would be so much trouble feeding her and keeping her quiet, not to mention dealing with her waste. As for the female genitals, well—the outer labia are good for rendering, once the hair is off, but the rest is rather slimy and stringy. I’m an ass man for a reason.

Male or female, I’ll butcher the carcass like any other animal—shaving, a quick scalding bath to get the last of the hair off, gutting (I do love the gutting, the spray of organs bursting out of the belly), and hanging in a cold room for a few weeks. It enhances the flavor of the meat, you see. Once the meat is properly hung, I cut it into choice roasts. My favorite is the rump. Even in sedentary humans, it is usually very well developed. I render the skin and subcutaneous fat into lard for frying—it can be such a delicate flavor! I must watch out for smokers and drug users, though; it leaves a horrible flavor. Again, I have considered keeping humans and feeding them a special diet, but the logistical concerns! It is a small shop, and I only have so much space. I do still sell the meat of lesser animals, after all.

I split the long bones for marrow—that producer of iron-rich blood!—and scrape it out with a special tool. Then, I saw the halved bones into chunks. I save a few of them for broths, but most, plus the smaller bones and cartilage, I boil down into gelatin. I trim and slice the liver and kidneys, if they are healthy—so many people are on some sort of medication or another, and most are eliminated through one of these organs. Really, I try to take the hippie types, who come to me for grassfed, local beef, because so many of them distrust drugs and medicine and use “natural remedies”—which is to say, usually only high-priced sugar pills and salad greens. I don’t eat the brain. Any sensible cannibal knows the risk for diseases. In fact, I blood test my humans before I eat any part of them, in fact before I kill them, just in case they have HIV or syphilis of any sort of dangerous pathogen. (And if they do…well, I make sure to cook them thoroughly. I can’t just let someone go because they’re contaminated.)

And, of course, the heart I eat immediately, and raw, so long as the human tests clean. Children’s hearts are the best; their youth makes the muscle soft and delicate. Once I managed to acquire an infant (along with its mother), not two months old, and its heart was the most delectable morsel I’ve ever tasted. I braised the rest of it save the head whole, in its mother’s milk, creating another dish I will never forget. Did you know, at that age the finger bones are so fine you can just chew them? If you ever get the opportunity, don’t waste it. But for older hearts, beyond about six years, suck the blood out and then slice them thin, like prosciutto, and pair with authentic parmesan cheese.

Waste as little of the body as possible, and police will never find you. So many careless cannibals have been caught because they threw away a hand or a head entire. Clean out the intestines and make sausages; clean out the stomach and make haggis. Fry the lungs in slices like crispy bacon. Stew the fingers, feet, and spine, and powder the bones to fertilize your garden. While you shouldn’t eat the brain, it is perfectly acceptable to skin the head and render the exterior flesh. Save and freeze the eyes until you have a couple dozen, then poach and pickle them—they are great on salads. If you can’t use it—for example, the brain, or the lungs of a smoker—make it unrecognizable before disposal, and flush it down the toilet, don’t throw it out. Even if a forensic scientist should go looking, so much of normal sewage is full of human DNA—menses, semen, spit, vomit, mucus, miscarriages, even our feces—that the odd pureed organ should raise no alarm.

As for recipes—well, it would not do for me to give up all my secrets! But in brief, human flesh handles like rich pork. May we all feast and ascend to become true steel weapons!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the guro lovers out there liked this! I like the horror aspect of guro, and I've been trying to write more hardcore stuff lately, but sexually I get more out of mopping the floor. Hopefully it's got enough detail and erotic focus for those of you who like to get off to this!


End file.
